Samuil Marshak
About one schoolboy and six poor marks

A schoolboy came from school one day
And hid his record-book away.

“Where is your record-book?” asked Mum,
So out again it had to come.

A I Very Poor caught Mother’s eye;

She shook her head and heaved a sigh.

On hearing of his son’s disgrace
His Dad went scarlet in the face.

“What was it for, upon my word?”
“I called a baobab a bird.

“I’m weak in natural history,
To me it’s quite a mystery.”

“For that,” was Mother’s stern remark,
“It surely was too high a mark.”

“There’s nothing lower to be had,”
Quite innocently said the lad.

“Now what is this — I see another,”
His elder sister told her brother.

“Oh dear,” he groaned, “You in it too?
I got it for the kangaroo.

“I thought that kangaroos were found
Like turnips, growing in the ground.”

“What did you get this third one for?”
His angry father asked once more.

“I said that a hypothenuse
Was a river boats and ships could use.”

“And what’s the fourth for, please explain?”
His father asked the boy again.

“We thought, my chum Pakhom and I,
A zebra was a sort of fly.”

“And what’s the fifth for?” Mother shook
His rather crumpled copy-book.

“We had an exercise to do.
It took an hour till I was through.

“I wrote the answer out in words :
It was. Two workmen and two thirds .

“Now, what about the sixth?” said Dad.
“Your marks — they’re fit to drive one mad.”

“The teacher asked the class, c Who knows
Where and what is Kanin’s nose?’”

“I didn’t know which nose was Kanin’s
And pointed to my own and Vanya’s.”

“Well, you’re a wonder, I must say.
Here, take that record-book away.

“What have you got inside your head?
Now quick, be off with you to bed!”

And so he shuffled off to bed,
Their good-for-nothing son,
And soon dozed off and had a dream
Where in the midday sun

Five zebras buzzed above the green
By the broad Hypothenuse
And all around the meadows teemed
With swaying kangaroos.

And in the damp of jungle groves
Among the mires and bogs
With folded wings on Vanya’s nose
A baobab caught frogs.

And somewhere on the jungle paths
Among the tall and tangled grass
A luckless labourer lay dead
Displaying neither legs nor head.

And so disastrous was the sight
That all to tears it stirred.
“Who cut a third from the working-man?”
A fearful voice was heard.

“The culprit will not get away.
He’ll answer for this slaughter,”
The hippopotamus exclaimed.
Emerging from the water.

“Just wait and see, I’ll make him pay,”
Declared the kangaroo.
“Oh no, he won’t get off unscathed,”
The baobab said too.

The boy jumped out of bed at dawn
In horror and dismay:
The record-book lay on the chair
The same as yesterday.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg